


The Sweetest Sound, The Soundest Love

by planetarypoe



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Candlenights, Cooking, Domestic, Extremely Sappy Scientists In Love, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:34:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28701522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planetarypoe/pseuds/planetarypoe
Summary: “Are you ready for the greatest experiment to ever grace our collective brains?”Barry swallowed. “I mean, what would you say are the chances of something going disastrously wrong? Or otherwise blowing up.” Lup opened her mouth but he held up a hand before she could speak. “And yes, that’s accounting for the fact that we on average have a higher likelihood of exploding things than the general population.”“Mm, I love it when you call us outliers,” said Lup. “But I’m not even doing mine tonight, so that drops the chances by a fair few points, I’d say.”“Oh,” said Barry. “That’s true. I’m on my own this time.”“Babe!” Lup said, twirling around, mildly offended. “I would never leave you to fend for yourself. Tonight,” and she bowed dramatically, her long scarf almost scraping the ground, “you have – and this is official - the greatest chef in existence serving as your humble sous-chef.”“Okay, so if anything blows up it’s definitely still your fault.”“Well, you know what I always say…” She waltzed towards the store.“It’s not Candlenights until something’s on fire?”
Relationships: Barry Bluejeans/Lup
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16
Collections: The Candlenights Zone (2020 Exchange)





	The Sweetest Sound, The Soundest Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Herbgerblin (TheEverlastingRandom)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEverlastingRandom/gifts).



Hypothesis: this was going to be a disaster.

“Are you ready for the greatest experiment to ever grace our collective brains?”

Barry swallowed. “I mean, what would you say are the chances of something going disastrously wrong? Or otherwise blowing up.” Lup opened her mouth but he held up a hand before she could speak. “And yes, that’s accounting for the fact that we on average have a higher likelihood of exploding things than the general population.”

“Mm, I love it when you call us outliers,” said Lup. “But I’m not even doing mine tonight, so that drops the chances by a fair few points, I’d say.”

“Oh,” said Barry. “That’s true. I’m on my own this time.”

“Babe!” Lup said, twirling around, mildly offended. “I would  _ never _ leave you to fend for yourself. Tonight,” and she bowed dramatically, her long scarf almost scraping the ground, “you have – and this is official -  _ the  _ greatest chef in existence serving as your humble sous-chef.”

“Okay, so if anything blows up it’s definitely still your fault.”

“Well, you know what I always say…” She waltzed towards the store.

“It’s not Candlenights until something’s on fire?” Barry completed the saying, and Lup grinned wide, turning to hold the door open for him, and he sped his steps to catch up with her. As he grabbed the door himself, their hands brushed together and his heart beat a little faster as it did every time he caught sight of her, every time they touched, even after all this time.

“Exactly. Now let’s fucking go! We’re gonna take those fuckers down!” And she practically sprinted into the first aisle. Barry blinked, grabbed a basket, and followed suit.

He wasn’t actually like,  _ worried _ about the Candlenights Cookoff. He’d cooked a fair bit – in a century, it would have been impossible not to end up spending a lot of time in the kitchen with Lup and Taako and any other poor bastard who happened to need to be there when they needed a fourth pair of hands. Normally, though, it was with Lup telling him what to do. She was too good a cook to sit by and watch anyone else do it badly, which meant she was always in charge in the kitchen – chop garlic, stir this pot, knead some dough… Which isn’t to say he never cooked without her. It was just that on the occasions he cooked alone to surprise Lup, he had always followed a recipe. The corners of his mouth tugged up at the memory of her face the last time he’d made blueberry waffles.

You can pick up a lot just following and helping out like that, but this Candlenights Cookoff was a whole new kettle. Angus had declared that everyone had to cook something they haven’t tried before, and for some reason everyone had listened to the kid. Even when Killian had grumbled something about tradition, Magnus just pointed out it didn’t mean she  _ couldn’t _ make her classic chicken, it just meant she had to do something new as well. In the spirit of adventure, crossing culinary boundaries, crafting new traditions, something like that. Barry was just trying to frame it as an experiment, and then if it failed he could chalk it up to experience and give it another shot maybe never.

So: equipment.

Barry caught up to Lup in front of a mountainous display of oranges, and wordlessly handed her the second basket he’d picked up. They were shopping separately, since Lup insisted on maintaining the element of surprise with her dish – knowing her, that could mean anything would come out of the kitchen when she was done, from the most delectable pastry to a burned-baked-smoking  _ something  _ – but they wandered the aisles together.

At first, Barry snuck peeks into Lup’s basket to try and figure out what she was going to make based on the things she’d picked up, but he quickly gave up. It was impossible to figure out what was ingredients, what was snacks, and what she’d chosen just because she felt like it. He spotted three kinds of chocolate, a potted plant, a sack of the flour that she always complained was  _ impossible  _ to work with but was the only one Davenport could eat, a pair of finely woven gloves, a pineapple, potatoes… He carefully loaded his own basket with chestnuts, squash, and listened to her gush over the little stuffed animals wearing Candlenights jumpers.

When they went to pay, Lup peered at his goods.

“So is your plan just to throw everything related to Candlenights into a pot and hope for the best?” She teased.

“It’s  _ seasonal, _ ” Barry insisted. “It’s, it’s a flavour profile.”

She threw a bag of chips at him, catching him square on the chest, and pointed at him. “Don’t try and pretend you’re the expert here.”

Barry picked up the chips from where he’d let them fall. “Learned from the best?” he said sheepishly.

“Hell yeah you did,” Lup said, adjusting her collar with an air of self-importance. “I’m the best cook in this family and you’re all going to see it tomorrow.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” said Barry. “I’m feeling pretty confident. After all, I have the best sous-chef in existence.”

“Don’t tempt me Barold. I am not above sabotage.”

“You mean cheating? Lup, if you can’t win without cheating, maybe you have to concede that-“ he stopped, because Lup was staring up at the sky, entranced, her breath curling away into the cool winter air. Lit like this by the lamps in the street, she was… well. A hundred years and a couple of languages down, and he’d never found words that could describe her, could encompass Lup. Not even in Mongoose. But what came to his mind then was  _ divine _ .

“The stars, Barry,” she breathed.

“Yeah?” Barry managed. He didn’t look away from her shining eyes to look where she was. He never needed to wait for the night sky to see the stars. She burned as bright as any of them, and a million times more beautiful and brilliant. Lup, who brought all her energy and all her life to everything she did, whether that was saving the multiverse or loving her family or a cooking competition between friends.

And suddenly Barry knew he was going to win  _ that _ battle. He helped save all of existence! There was no way he was letting anyone else beat him at a simple test of chemistry and flavour, and definitely not with Lup by his side.

But when they arrived back at their cottage, after he unpacked everything onto the counter he just stared at it contemplatively for a moment, confidence fading a little as he went over his plan again in his head. Lup caught him at it.

“It’s not gonna cook itself, babe. Even Taako, culinary magician extraordinaire, hasn’t figured that one out yet.”

Barry sighed. “That’s the problem. I feel like Taako has a pretty distinct advantage in this one. I mean, how many cookbooks does he have now? Three?”

“Nah, Barr, that stacks the odds  _ against _ him. He’s gotta do something new, which means he can’t use any of that old shit. You, Mr Innovator, are gonna have a much easier time of it. Now.” She finished rolling up her sleeves and planted her hands on her hips. “What do you need?”

Method next. He glanced over his ingredients once more, tallying it up in his mind.

“Can you grab me some rosemary from the garden?”

“Sure thing babe!” she said, and swung back out the door. He glanced up just in time to catch the end of her scarf whipping around the door before it closed again, and smiled to himself before slipping an apron over his head – this one declared  _ Bone Appetit _ , a housewarming gift from Kravitz.

Lup never missed an opportunity to get out in the garden that sprawled outside their front door. For two people who were technically dead, they were pretty good at making things grow. It was a point of pride, sure, but more so it was a calming place to cool down. Merle dropped by to leer at it every now and then, but he was banned from actually doing anything to the plants, seedy or otherwise. Everything that lived there now did so because Barry and Lup had nurtured it, green and growing and  _ alive. _

He had onions softening in a pan with garlic by the time the door opened again. He didn’t look up – onions had a habit of burning if he looked away from them for a single second - but after a moment Lup stepped up beside him. Barry could smell the fresh cut rosemary and the winter air like she’d pulled it inside with her. That would be her, every element dragged along in her wake, her power, her gravity. He’d felt it from the moment they met back at the IPRE, that he’d have no choice but to follow her. She leaned over his shoulder now and planted a kiss on his cheek. He leaned back into her warmth, savouring the familiarity of her at his side in the kitchen.

Then a bunch of cold, damp but fragrant leaves smacked him in the face. He spluttered indignantly.

“L- Lup!”

“What am I doing with this, then, chef?” The rosemary dragged along his neck, sending a shiver down his spine and he batted blindly in the direction the attack came from, keeping an eye on the pan.

“You promised no sabotage,” he said, still waving his hand around ineffectively. “This has to be a fair competition.”

“First of all,” Lup pointed the bunch of rosemary at him, “I made no such promise. I play by my own rules. Second of all, I _ am _ helping. Now what should I do with this?”

“Wash it and everything? And can you watch the onions? They never burn when you do them.”

“That’s because of the magic.”

Barry blinked. “Really? Because if you have an anti-burning onions spell and you  _ haven’t _ told me about it in the last century I’ll, I don’t know, be offended.”

She wiggled her fingers at him. “Pyromancy, baby. It’s not just about controlling the fire, but controlling the  _ burn _ .” Barry was stunned for a moment. He was pretty sure she was joking, but he still couldn’t tell with 100% accuracy. Then she laughed, bright peals bouncing around the kitchen. “Nah, it’s just the knack. I’d been doing it for like, a century by the time we met.”

“I’ve been doing it for like a century now, and somehow…” Barry grumbled.

“Aw babe.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I got it. Go do whatever you need to do. I take a solemn oath not to let these onions burn.”

She set to work stripping the rosemary leaves from the stalk, occasionally stirring the onions. Barry could hear her humming softly behind him while he chopped the squash into small chunks.

Dusting off his hands, he reached for the spices, but when he went to tip them into the onions, Lup went “Hmm.”

“What?” said Barry.

“Oh, nothing,” she replied airily. “Just an interesting choice.”

He turned back to the dish, but it was only a couple of minutes later when he went to turn the heat down when he caught her raising her eyebrows at him. And her lips pursing when he reached for the sage.

“Oh, okay. I see how this is,” Barry grumbled. “You can’t handle your husband being better in the kitchen, huh? You trying to throw me off my game with psychological attacks?”

“I’m shocked that you’d even accuse me of such behaviour. Have I not stood here and heroically seen that your great dish doesn’t burn in its first stages? Was I not there when –“

“Okay, where’d you hide the salt?”

Lup paused in her dramatic monologue, one hand to her chest and the other flung across her forehead. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. “Don’t you think telling would ruin all the fun?”

“I mean, as long you’re happy destroying the Candlenights festivities by not letting me season my shit, then you can have all the fun you like.”

Lup pulled a face. “Oh yeah, I have to eat this. Well, in that case I suppose you can know that it’s in the coffee maker.”

“Please tell me it isn’t… you know… loose in there.”

“No, that would’ve been much more effort than I’d get kicks out of it.” She moved away and slid the saltshaker (carved exquisitely by Magnus) onto the counter by his elbow when she returned.

“Thanks, hun.”

Lup jumped up to perch on the counter with a little huff, and peered down at the pan. For a couple of minutes, she just sat there, and he just stood, stirring, only the simmering stock breaking the silence.

When he looked up at her she looked back down, smiling softly.

“What?” he asked. She just shook her head.

“Turns out you’re pretty good at this, Barr,” she said. He blushed.

“You haven’t even tasted it yet,” he said.

Lup hummed. “No, but I can tell these things.” She cupped his chin in one hand, to make him meet her eye. “You’re rocking this. Trust me, I have experience.” and she winked before sliding down to the ground. “Now, you seem to have things under control. I’m gonna nap and uh, if you burn down the kitchen, wake me up so I can join in.”

Barry nodded with a smile, and Lup headed out of the kitchen. He heard her curling up on one of the soft, squashy sofas.

To his pleasant surprise, he did seem to have it under control. The chestnuts were roasting in the oven, and Barry watched over the squash as it simmered in the stock. He was more determined than ever to get this right. In a family full of chefs, no-one would be expecting Barry J Bluejeans to produce a notable dish, but he was pretty sure he was in with a good chance. It smelled pretty good, after all.

This stage wasn’t exactly taxing work, though, and his mind wandered. He wondered what the rest of his family would be making for their dinner tomorrow, and whether Angus would like his gift. He smiled at the thought of Lucretia letting her hair down some – she was so austere now, Madame Director, but she had always been kind of giggly at celebrations on the Starblaster when she got comfortable enough, and she deserved to relax a little. He couldn’t wait to hear Davenport’s tales from his time on the sea, and see Magnus’ dogs – he was normally a little nervous around animals, but they were so well behaved he never had a problem with them.

Barry almost dropped the spoon when he heard a low chord on the piano. Lup had been so quiet for so long, he’d been sure she’d fallen asleep. Instead, she was smiling softly at him from behind the piano, where she was still playing this low melody, rich and layered. He didn’t recognise it at first, then he glanced back down at the pan, back up, and the pieces clicked together.

“You’re playing my dish?” he asked with a smile.

She nodded, not taking her eyes off him, as her fingers danced over the keys, picking out a gentle tune that rose above the heady lines of the lower part. Barry’d had enough practice to recognise that part for the lemon he’d just twisted into the sauce.

It was one of his favourite things about Lup – although if anyone ever asked him for that list, they’d have to be as undying as he is to get anywhere near the end of it. Almost the first thing she did once she started learning music back at the Conservatory was translate the flavours of the things she made or ate into a tune everyone else could hear. Once she’d started, she hadn’t been able to stop, and Barry realised then that she’d been doing it the whole time, humming under her breath or singing little runs as she stood over the stove in the Starblaster. But with an instrument or three at her command, those tunes became gorgeous songs or pieces. He still got Honey stuck in his head every time he even thought about toast.

She normally stuck to the violin, though, and hearing her play the instrument he thought of as his made him feel all funny inside. Lup was… incredible, she really was. Barry couldn’t believe his luck, that he got to spend every day with a woman as talented, as funny, as caring as Lup was.

She played another curly little flourish and shrugged. “Well, I figured, if you’re the chef in this relationship now, that must make me the pianist.”

He listened, and tasted his dish again as she kept playing.

“It sounds good, babe,” he said.

“It smells good, babe,” she grinned back.

He checked on the flame under the squash again, as Lup kept tinkering away at the piano – adding little flares to the melody of his dish, then a dramatic scale, before dropping into quiet versions of things they learned at the Conservatory, then picked out parts from a tune Johann wrote. Barry could tell she was just messing about, really, keeping her fingers loose and not sticking to anything for too long. It was nothing like the laser focus she’d shown when they were practicing for their presentation, playing the same two bars over and over and over again until her tone was perfect. 

That had been a dizzying whirlwind of a time. Barry had felt like he could breathe that piece by the time they were actually there on stage, and it still took Lup there grounding him to hold him together long enough to get through it in front of all those people and the mountain itself. The memory of the elation he’d felt after they’d finished playing made him smile.

When Lup started banging out unreasonably cheerful chords, though, he frowned. It took him a moment to place it, and then he groaned - he’d only been on this plane a couple of years, and he’d already heard  _ Carol of the Grells _ enough for one lifetime. Terrible seasonal music had been, unfortunately, pretty universal throughout the multiverse. About fifteen years in, Davenport had banned the genre entirely on the Starblaster. The fare on Faerune was no better than the stuff from their home planar system. Even at the Conservatory, it was bad. It was just cheesy. Barry was not immune to a catchy chorus, but after the third verse of  _ You’re a Mean One, Mr Lich,  _ he was ready to beg.

“Lup,” he said, a pleading note in his voice. “If that gets stuck in my head I’m going to have to take drastic measures.”

Her hands slowed on the keys, and for a moment Barry was relieved. He should have known better, because she just raised her eyebrows innocently and switched to  _ Silent Wight. _

“Lup,” he said again.

She smiled, the picture of innocence. “Is something wrong, honey?”

He snapped. After turning down the cooker as much as possible he strode over to the piano, wrapping her up in his arms. She laughed brightly as he pinned her arms to her sides, bringing her horribly enthusiastic rendition of  _ Baby There’s Kobolds Outside _ to a clunky and thankful end.

“Aww, what’s brought on this show of affection? Just couldn’t hold back from reminding me of your  _ undying _ love for me, huh?”

“Because I don’t remind you enough of that,” Barry mumbled into her hair.

“Tell me again,” she said, leaning back against him.

“Lup, I… I love you, so, so much. You are the most beautiful, incredible woman in existence, I don’t even - I can’t describe-” Barry couldn’t believe he still got flustered around Lup, even after all this time.

She didn’t say anything, but slipped her hand into his, then raised their joined hands, and pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of his wrist. Barry stopped breathing for a moment.

“And I,” Lup replied, “got lucky enough to find the sweetest, smartest, sexiest man in all the planar systems. Even if he does burn the dinner.”

“Oh, shit,” said Barry.

He bolted back to the stove, Lup laughing behind him. Thank the gods, it hadn’t burned while he’d been gone, but smelled rich and savoury. He turned off the heat and hauled the chestnuts out of the oven, their strong sweet smell mingling with the squash when he sprinkled them over the top.

Lup slipped up beside him, and without a word he handed her a spoon. She took it solemnly and scooped up a mouthful from the pan. Barry’s eyes didn’t leave her face as she chewed it thoughtfully, her expression inscrutable. Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore.

“So?” he said. Lup’s face immediately cracked into a grin and she tossed the spoon aside, throwing her arms around Barry’s neck and pulling him down into a kiss. Barry was completely blindsided for a moment, then melted into her arms. Her lips on his were soft and warm and tasted just a little of nutmeg.

When she broke away, he asked, a little breathless, “So is that good, or?”

She laughed and gave him another peck. “Babe, it’s fucking delicious. You’re gonna blow them away, Bluejeans.”

He smiled in relief and leaned his forehead against hers. Results: complete success.

“Happy Candlenights, Lup,” he said.

“Happy Candlenights, you sap,” she replied.

**Author's Note:**

> This was so much fun to write! Thank you to the CH crew for helping me workshop apron and song name puns, I'm nothing without you, and also to Mika for writing almost ridiculous amounts of Blupjeans music.


End file.
